


Theater of Fools

by MarvelousMenagerie (HiddenOne)



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ember Island (Avatar), Episode: s03e17 The Ember Island Players, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Miscommunication, Self-Esteem Issues, Unhealthy Relationships, Zuko (Avatar) Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:28:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28824471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenOne/pseuds/MarvelousMenagerie
Summary: During the theater production on Ember Island, Zuko finds out Jet is dead.[“You were friends?” Katara squinted, like she was trying to imagine it but still coming out with a hazy picture.“Sort of.”He’d turned down being one of the Freedom Fights but he hadn’t managed to turn downJet. Hadn’t said no when Jet had tugged him into an alleyway a few days later and they’d groped each other against the wall. Hadn’t refused a race across the rooftops to decide who got to come first that night. Hadn’t shied away when Jet found him at the teashop on break and Zuko went back on shift with dirty knees.Thank the spirits his uncle didn’t pay attention to anything other than tea.]
Relationships: Jet/Zuko (Avatar), Katara & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 162





	Theater of Fools

**Author's Note:**

> I have a massive weakness for Jet as Zuko's ex, but warning that it's not very pro-Jet/Zuko if that's your thing. Also warnings for negative self talk by Zuko (that isn't resolved in the fic because he's not using his words), and a lot of implied sexual content.
> 
> A couple of the dialogue lines are taken directly from the episode.

Zuko bolt upright, his spine rigid and pressed against the back of his seat. He’d never awarded the Ember Island Players this much of his attention before, but he was transfixed now on the scene below.

The ‘rock’ floated down from above, swaying across the stage. The character playing Jet crawled after it and managed to get half of his body underneath the stage piece when it landed. Another moment, and his body was entirely hidden.

“Did Jet just die?” Crushed beneath rock?

The hesitant silence following his question had his stomach twisting.

“You know, it was really unclear,” Sokka said from the row behind, because it was Sokka who voiced the uncomfortable truths for the group and spun them how they wanted them spun. Or at least the emotionally uncomfortable ones, the type that Toph didn’t want to handle.

But Zuko wasn’t stupid, and the light-hearted tone couldn’t mask what Sokka _wasn’t_ saying.

He was going to be sick.

Not bothering to make his excuses since he sucked at lying anyway, he left. Up the stairs, down the hallway, bursting out one of the back doors and into cool night air. It was stupid, he was stupid - it wasn’t like if he left the scene it would all disappear. It wasn’t like Jet wouldn’t die if the act wasn’t done, the play not finished. As if there was a chance to fix it, make it right.

As if it wasn’t finished weeks ago, months ago.

_It’s a long, long way to Ba Sing Se_

He smacked into the railing of the deck, halted before he ran right over the edge. Before he could fall to the trees below, then to the shore, then straight into the ocean. Maybe dunking himself in the water would be able to wash away these thoughts - and his uncle’s singing voice.

_But the girls in the city, they look so pretty_

It hadn’t been the girls that’d interested him.

Not that he’d ever told Uncle that. He’d only shouted when Uncle sang that stupid song. Shout, without saying anything, like he always did. And now there was nothing to say because -

Because Jet was dead.

Zuko sucked air into his lungs, the chill from the ocean breeze burning his throat. What was wrong with him? Why did he care? What did it matter if Jet was dead?

Except that it explained why Jet never came back.

“Are you okay?”

He glanced back, taking in Katara’s concern, and jerked back around. The last thing he felt like doing was explaining.

“I’m fine.” It wasn’t even a lie. He was less nauseous.

He stared up at the moon instead, except then remembered the moon was Sokka’s girlfriend. Or ex-girlfriend, or something. He ripped his gaze from the moon and glared at the waves rolling into shore.

Katara’s steps were hesitant, but she came up next to him. “Are you sure? You seemed really upset back there.”

“It’s just a stupid play.”

“It is.” Her scowl was brief, but he caught it out of the corner of his eye. “But that part happened, with Jet I mean.” Her voice was apologetic. “We don’t know for sure because we had to leave. I tried to heal him, and that might’ve helped. Maybe -”

“Don’t,” he snapped. At least Sokka hadn’t tried to offer him hope. This was worse, with Katara saying what she thought he wanted to hear.

Not that he didn’t want to hear it because he wanted Jet dead. He wasn’t the Fire Nation monster Jet thought he was, or thought his Uncle was, or that the both of them were. He just didn’t want to hear it because -

Because he wouldn’t be stupid anymore. Of course Jet was dead, because Jet wouldn’t have stopped coming after them for anything less. If he hadn’t been so stupid back then, he would’ve already known what had happened.

Besides, Jet had gone after Uncle. His stomach shouldn’t be twisting like this.

“How did you even know Jet? He hates the Fire Nation.”

“I know.” He buried his hands under his arms, even though that made him look like a weak firebender who couldn’t control his own temperature.

He doesn’t want to explain, but if anyone deserves to judge him, it’s Katara. “It was on the ferry. The one to Ba Sing Se. He said we were both outcasts,” gesturing to his scar, “or something. Then he -” _looked_ at Zuko _,_ and somehow that had been enough for Jet to know, because Jet’s hand went to his waist, “ - said we should stick together.”

Jet had leaned in then, eyes dark and lips smirking. Zuko had turned away, had run. But Jet had followed.

He was the Blue Spirit. He had no one to blame but himself. He’d let himself be cornered, backed into the shadows where on a crowded ferry few could see. Jet had called him shy, breath ghosting over Zuko’s skin, eyes still dark and lips still smirking. 

Zuko had snarled in challenge and moved _first_ , the kiss fierce and biting.

Then Jet had taken over, crowding Zuko back against the wall, hands in his hair, tongue in his mouth, bodies pressed together. 

Zuko had let him, let him do whatever he wanted, that first kiss tasting like the meal they’d stolen together.

“We ran into each other a few times after that.”

“You were friends?” Katara squinted, like she was trying to imagine it but still coming out with a hazy picture.

“Sort of.”

He’d turned down being one of the Freedom Fights but he hadn’t managed to turn down _Jet_. Hadn’t said no when Jet had tugged him into an alleyway a few days later and they’d groped each other against the wall. Hadn’t refused a race across the rooftops to decide who got to come first that night. Hadn’t shied away when Jet found him at the teashop on break and Zuko went back on shift with dirty knees.

Thank the spirits his uncle didn’t pay attention to anything other than tea.

“Until he accused Uncle of being a firebender.”

Damn his uncle for not paying attention to anything other than tea.

“Your Uncle is a firebender,” Katara said carefully.

“We weren’t causing trouble!” Zuko protested. “We weren’t _spies_ or hurting anyone. We were serving tea, and then Jet thought he saw Uncle heating some, or whatever. It was just tea!” He buried his hands in his hair. “It was all over some stupid tea.”

Hot tea was all the evidence Jet had needed to burst into Pao’s teashop and point his hook swords at Uncle. He hadn’t even looked at Zuko until Zuko had had the swords in hand, ready to face-off.

And Jet hadn’t been anything other than angry and cold when he attacked, forcing Zuko to fight.

“Jet isn’t the type who cared. He thought anyone from the Fire Nation was evil.” Katara ducked her head in guilt.

“Yeah,” Zuko said, turning away. It’s not like he could blame her or Jet for thinking that. Or anyone else who still thought that way, because he was the prince and he’d had to turn traitor to his nation to save it. “But he didn’t have to, to _pretend_ -”

If Jet had pretended. If Jet had known before, and used Zuko to spy on them. Like those surprise visits at the apartment when Uncle was out running errands. Why Jet always knew when Zuko was due a break at the teashop. When Jet had used his hands to bring Zuko to the edge of coming and then asked who gave him that scar.

Zuko had shoved him away then, shouting out non-answers, but the next day Jet was back and Zuko let himself be talked around again. Let Jet whisper in his ear, let Jet bruise his wrists with the hold, let Jet control how and when Zuko could rub off on him.

Or maybe that had just been Jet, and it hadn’t crumbled until after Jet had seen whatever had happened with Uncle and the tea. And now he’d never get a chance to ask about when and where and how long, because Jet hadn’t come back.

Because Jet was dead.

“I know what you mean,” Katara said. Her hand hovered over his arm, and when he didn’t pull away she set hers down. The touch was warm, and his shoulders relaxed.

“You do?”

“Yeah, he’s good at pretending to care when he wants something.”

The words hit like Aang blowing him into a wall.

“We met Jet back - well, you saw.” Katara rolled her eyes. “But that wasn’t how it really happened! First of all, I didn’t _cry_ , and all he did was lie to us. Made me think we were -” Katara’s face flushed, “- but it was just a trick. He used me.”

Zuko grabbed her wrist and yanked her close. “He used you?” The cold pit in his stomach burned with anger, making his grip tight. Katara’s eyes were wide in alarm, and he let her go, stumbling back. “Sorry, sorry, I - I’m sorry that happened to you. So sorry. Are you okay?”

That was a stupid question. He was so stupid. Stupid about Jet, stupid about not seeing it. Stupid enough to always get fooled.

“I can’t forgive him for what he made me do.” Katara stared out at the waves, her arms crossed and shoulders hunched.

Swallowing, Zuko matched her pose. “I’m sorry.” His voice was a rasp.

And for all that he hated that Jet used his tricks on Katara too, there was a thread of hurt. None of it was real then. Zuko was only one more person falling prey to Jet’s tried and true strategy, twisted around for Jet to use. He’d been stupid enough to fall for it, but Zuko would never forgive Jet for doing the same to Katara.

Azula was right - if he was that stupid, then he was asking for it. But not Katara. Katara was too good.

And _young._

“Me and Aang,” she growled. “He used us both.”

“And Aang?” His jaw dropped in horror. Aang was _twelve_. His hands gripped the railing, and he didn’t care about the smoke that arose. “If he was alive, I’d burn him to the ground.”

“Don’t say that!” Katara’s horror turned on him, and he startled. He cooled his fire off, but Katara wasn’t looking at his hands. “We were the ones who didn’t listen to Sokka’s instincts.”

“Instincts?” Zuko stared at her, confused.

Katara huffed. “Sokka figured out something was up.”

“Sokka knew and he didn’t kill Jet?” Zuko was going to take that mistake out on Sokka’s hide during their next spar.

“I thought you were upset Jet was dead.” Katara looked almost amused, but he couldn’t be seeing that right.

“That was before I knew he used you and Aang!”

He would never have sunk so low on his chase for the Avatar. He had honor, even if he hadn’t realized it at the time. Not that he was even capable of seduction plans, with being terrible at lying and the unattractive scar on his face. Jet had both advantages there.

And here he was, selfishly hurt again, wondering why Katara didn’t hate Jet as much as she used to hate him.

“That’s sweet of you, Zuko, but it turned out okay. Sokka warned the town and was able to get everyone out.”

“…What?”

“Before the flood.” Katara tucked her hair behind her ear, her hand obscuring her face. “Jet tricked Aang and I into using our waterbending to fill the reservoir. He said he wanted it full to stop the Fire Nation from burning down the forest, when really he was going to blow the damn and kill everyone in the valley, not just the soldiers. Even the Earth Kingdom ones! He thought they were worth sacrificing!”

“That’s awful,” Zuko said, his mouth numb. His entire body felt numb. “He used your waterbending. That’s it?”

“Yes, of course,” Katara said, her cheeks flushed. “That play made it sound like I - look, I wasn’t obsessed with him! He’s not my type.”

“Oh.”

But he should’ve known that Katara and Aang wouldn’t be used that way. Zuko was the one who couldn’t make good choices, who had made it obvious he would fall for those kinds of tricks, that he wanted sex that was a fight he needed to lose. He’d caved to Jet, to those hands and mouth and voice, and been glad for it each time. It hadn’t been like that with Mai, when he’d gone back, and he’d been relieved. 

And also not. 

“I’m sorry he used your friendship against you.” Her voice was full of too much sympathy, and Zuko didn’t deserve it.

“We should get back to the play.” He caught Katara’s grimace, and he dredged up his manners. “Thanks for this. Coming out here. For me.”

“Of course, Zuko. You’re part of the team.” Katara gave him a smile, a full one.

He grinned back, those words lifting him up.

Heavy footsteps stomped toward them, and Zuko whirled to face the threat, dropping into a stable stance. Katara had room to call up the ocean but better no one saw any waterbending. He could rush and -

Aang marched out, scowling, with fists clenched at his sides.

Zuko never knew the airbender could step so heavily.

“Aang, are you okay?” Katara asked.

“No, I’m not!” Aang glared at him. “You’ve been out here this whole time with _Zuko_?”

Zuko stepped back. He’d never heard Aang spit his name like that, not even when he’d still been tracking them. Aang didn’t even say ‘Fire Lord’ or ‘Ozai’ with that much venom.

Katara’s hands went to her hips. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means I hate this stupid play!” Aang took the hat that was covering his arrow and threw it on the ground. Then he stomped on it, again and again. “It’s terrible!”

“Yeah, it is,” Zuko agreed and edged around him.

“You don’t think you’re overreacting?” Katara questioned, trading a glance with Zuko.

Zuko admired her bravery and slipped closer to the door that led back to the theater and escape.

“Overreacting? If I hadn’t blocked my chakra, I would probably be in the Avatar State right now!”

Zuko stumbled back. Katara was the only one who could handle Aang in the Avatar State. “I’m going to,” Zuko pointed inside, “see you? Not see you, I mean. Because I’m going.”

He ducked back inside, feeling a little guilty at leaving Katara with another emotional problem to handle but mostly relieved to be out of sight. He slipped back into his seat, now with plenty of room with Aang and Katara gone, just in time to see his character pushing Uncle to the stage floor. 

“I hate you, Uncle! You smell, and I hate you for all time!”

Zuko groaned and put his head in his hands. He hadn’t said that, but he may as well have. Someone behind him, either Sokka or Suki, patted his back. 

“I hate this play,” he grumbled.

**Author's Note:**

> Zuko lives in blissful ignorance that Iroh definitely knows.


End file.
